Eternity: The Chase, and How to Keep It Interesting
by musicalauthor0510
Summary: The chase is coming to a close, and she's not sure if she even wants to keep running. And what's this about stabbing girlfriends and shooting boyfriends? Rated T for language, some bloody content (very little though, I promise), and sexy time
1. Chapter 1

**Alrighty then, let's get through the whole disclaimer speech:**

**I do not own Heroes, nor do I own the characters, just the idea. **

**Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease review, with a pretty please and a cherry on top! :D This IS my first Heroes fanfiction, so be kind. I've been sticking with InuYasha anime for a while, and I wanted to branch out. Please, no flames? (=^._.^=) :) Enjoy!**

As rain poured down on the streets of New York city, a petite blonde girl splashed through the pools of water, bare feet pounding against the pavement. Her breath came out in shallow gasps, her arms pumping at her sides, pushing her to go faster. She glanced over her shoulder multiple times, long soaked blonde strands of hair slapping her cheeks as she did. Her short white dress, soaked completely through, clung to her figure, the fabric now practically see through due to the rain. If one looked close enough, they could see the black lace undergarments underneath the dress, but she wasn't really concerned with that right now.

As she rounded a corner on the street and found herself on her own street, with her apartment only one block away, she made herself run even faster. She didn't even notice as she stepped on a shard of glass, her desensitized pain receptors telling her nothing as the glass cracked under her foot, the skin healing as she reached the front stone steps of the apartment building. She pounded on the door and hit the buzzer frantically for the doorman. He approached at what seemed to be a ridiculously slow pace as she frantically looked over her shoulder, just in time to see a hooded figure at the end of the street, observing with arms folded over their chest and head cocked to the side, as if amused at her attempts to escape. As the doorman opened the door and attempted to greet the blonde, she raced past him and past the elevators to the old unused stairwell, where she took two steps at a time to get to the safety of her own home. Reaching her front door, she bent down and pulled her key out from under the mat and fumbled with the small silver object before managing to get her front door open. She slammed it shut behind her and turned the lock, sliding the dead bolt into place. Running to the kitchen, she yanked open a few drawers before discovering the object she was searching for. As the sound of the dead bolt sliding out of place sounded throughout the silent apartment, she ducked down behind the counter and held her breath, incredibly thankful that she couldn't feel when her lungs would burst and that her body would just get over it.

Footsteps, sneakers slapping hardwood floor as they strolled through the apartment, taking in the décor. She crawled away from the counter and towards the breakfast bar, where she could get a better vantage point. Once she had a good view of her stalker's back, she leveled the gun tight in her grip and aimed at the back of their head. She glared at the dark figure, finger silently pulling the trigger. But, as the gun was fired, a direct trajectory path aimed at the back of the skull, the bullet froze in midair. The gun was torn from her grip and skidded across the hardwood floor, just as she was yanked to her feet by some unseen force and her body acted of its own accord. Mechanically, she approached the figure, her eyes wide and filled with anger. Turning, the figure took in the drenched sight of her, admiring her for a moment with a smirk.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," she ground out through gritted teeth. He chuckled.

"Oh, why do that when I can just pop in and see you whenever I want, Cheerleader?" he taunted, stepping forward and catching her in his arms as she was forced to launch herself at him. "A little eager there, Princess," he said with a grin. She glared daggers up at him, fighting with everything she had to pull herself out of his grasp.

"Let me go, you psychotic son of a bitch," she growled. He quirked a brow.

"Now, now, that is not the proper language for a proper young lady," he said with a tsk.

"Newsflash, I'm not a regular proper young lady," she replied. He chuckled.

"That's the truth," he agreed. He loosened his arms around her and stepped back, releasing his marionette hold on her. Stumbling backwards, she collided with the breakfast bar. Her fingers came into contact with the smooth surface of one of the new knives in the set her father bought her as a house warming gift. Inwardly, she thanked him vehemently for the gift. It was going to come in handy.

"Leave, now," she said, tone cold and calculating. He shook his head with a frown.

"Is that any way to treat a guest, Cheerleader?" he asked, crossing his arms under his chest. Her eyes narrowed.

"You're not a guest. You're a psychopath stalking me through the soaking streets of New York city. Big difference," she replied sharply before lunging forward, knife in hand. The tip of silver sank into warm flesh directly above his heart. With a shout, he stumbled backward and she took the opportunity to run past him and towards the bedroom. Just as she pulled the door shut behind her, it was telekinetically forced open again. Now, he was pissed as he leaned against the doorway, the gaping wound in his chest healing, skin stretching taught over the regenerating muscle mass. She backed away from him and towards the window on the opposite side of the room. She knew from experience it was a clean, straight drop from her window to the alley below, and she knew she would survive the fall. It was _her_ regenerative power he was using right now, after all.

"Now, that wasn't very nice," he managed to say between short gasps of breath, the wound stitching itself and the healing job finished up. Straightening, he approached her. She backed up to the window and turned, yanking it open. "Time to face your fate, Claire," he growled. She looked back up at him.

"Not today, Sylar," she replied before throwing herself out the window.

* * *

For two decades, they played at this game. Five years after the chaotic dust surrounding Claire Bennet's big reveal at the carnival ferris wheel settled, Sylar had come for Claire. Up until that point, there was some civility between them, for Peter's sake more than anything, since he and the former serial killer were now friends, for some god forsaken reason. Claire had even begun to develop some extremely major feelings for the psychotic, devilishly charming, sexy immortal. But when he came for her that night, he'd scared her off with that dark hunger, that possessive glint in his eyes that seemed almost sinister at the time. And when she started running, she couldn't stop. She'd only recently come back to New York last month. She'd been basically touring the country, going from state to state. But after this last encounter, Claire decided she was ready for a change of pace, new scenery.

* * *

Standing at the ticket check in at the New York city airport, suitcase at her side, she waited with a bored expression painting her beautiful features behind a particularly ignorant young woman who didn't quite understand why she had to pay the excess baggage fee because her luggage exceeded the maximum weight limit.

"Oh, come on," she muttered, leaning against her red and white striped suitcase. She'd bought the piece of luggage because of the way the colors reminded her of her old Texas cheerleading uniform. The first outfit he'd ever seen her in. And even today, almost as if to honor her departure, she wore a short red dress, a white denim jacket, and a small yellow backpack was slung over her left shoulder, containing her passport, tickets, boarding information, wallet, the works.

Finally, as the woman in front of her paid her fees and moved away from the check in, Claire breathed a sigh of relief and approached the man at the counter. As she handed over her information and waited for her ticket confirmation, she looked around the nearly empty lobby of the airport. It was only two thirty in the morning, Claire having purposely booked her flight at this time on a Wednesday, so she didn't have to deal with people on her long overseas flight.

"So, why Japan?" the young man asked as he passed back her ID and passport. Claire smiled.

"Visiting a couple of friends. Thought I could use some time to get away…." she trailed off, as she caught movement in her peripheral view. Glancing over her shoulder, she could have sworn she'd seen him, at the escalators leading to the gates and strip of shops and restaurants.

"Miss Bennet?" Claire snapped back to attention and gave her thanks before leaving the check in counter with her ticket in hand and carry on sized suitcase being dragged along behind her. As Claire reached the escalator, she stepped on and pulled her bag onto the step beside her, waiting patiently as the step inched its way along. She couldn't help but look around, searching for any telltale sign of him as she stepped off the escalator. She wasn't sure exactly what she would do if he were here.

_'Maybe end this stupid game of cat and mouse you started,'_ said a small voice in the back of her head. She shook the thought away. No, she needed to get away for a while. This was the perfect escape. And it wasn't like she could just stop running.

_'Sure, just wait for Sylar to find me again. That'll be an interesting conversation. "Hey, Sylar! Sorry for running for the past went twenty or so years. I was just messing around. Want to get a coffee sometime?" I'd probably end up with my brains splattered across the terminal floor.'_

"I wouldn't make such a mess, Claire."

Claire stiffened, her suitcase falling to the ground with a clatter. Standing before her with arms crossed over his chest, Sylar glared down at her. Claire gulped. So he'd come. And he'd acquired a mind reading ability.

_'Matt Parkman?'_ she wondered. He sighed.

"No, Claire. Someone else, and no, I didn't kill them before you even think it," he said with a frown. "I learned several years ago I didn't have to kill anyone to gain their abilities anymore." Claire's eyes widened.

"Wait, seriously? How long has it been then?" she asked, genuinely surprised. He shrugged.

"Two and a half decades, give or take a couple of months," he replied. Then he frowned again. "Now, what's this about a game of cat and mouse and coffee?" he asked, eyes narrowed. Claire gulped again.

"Uh, well, I, uh," she mumbled, trying to think of any possible way she could come out of this without looking like a bitch.

"Not a single one, Claire," he responded to her thought. Claire slowly lifted her eyes to his. And was surprised yet again to see pain and hurt and betrayal reflected in those dark brown eyes she constantly dreamed about. His gaze softened slightly at that thought, but the hurt was still swimming in his gaze. "Two decades you ran from me, Claire. Just because you felt like it?" he asked. Claire sighed and dropped her eyes back to her shoes. She mumbled something under her breath, and Sylar raised an eyebrow. "Come again?" he asked, not sure he heard right. Claire inhaled slowly and looked up to meet his eyes.

"I-already-sort-of-fell-for-you, but-you-pissed-me-off-and-I-was-scared-when-you-ca me-for-me," she said all in one breath. When he didn't respond, his jaw having dropped at the admission, she continued.

"And during the first year I was scared. Then over time I got angry. Then I got scared again, of what you would say if I told you the truth. And then I couldn't stop running. Then I got tired. Hence, the first class flight to Japan," she explained quietly. _'Courtesy of my Petrelli inheritance,'_ she added mentally as an afterthought she knew he would hear. He smirked a little at that one, but then frowned as he mulled over her confession. When his expression didn't let up after ten or so minutes of agonizing waiting, Claire sighed and bent down, picking up her suitcase once again.

_'I knew this would happen when I told you. I'm sorry Sylar. I probably won't be back in the states for a while, so you don't have to worry about running into me. Bye,'_ she thought as she brushed past him, blinking back the tears threatening to fall as she briskly walked away. Now she just needed to get on her flight and get away from here, from her own stupidity and selfishness. God, who was the psychotic heart breaker now? Just as she reached her terminal and gate, her suitcase once again fell to the ground. And now she was frozen in place. She was forced to turn around, that familiar marionette power tugging at her legs so that she walked towards him. The tear tracks on her cheeks caught his attention, but his expression remained stoic until she was only inches away from him.

"What are you doing, Sylar?" she muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. He growled, using the invisible strings to jerk her gaze to his.

"After admitting all that, you think you get to run again?" he questioned before releasing the marionette hold on her and yanking her into a kiss, crushing their lips together. Claire gasped for breath, providing him further access to her mouth. His hands gripped her waist possessively, pressing her small body against his. Her own hands moved up to the nape of his neck and curled into his hair as she responded to his kiss in kind. Seeing as she couldn't feel the discomfort from the lack of oxygen, and he just ignored it, there was no need to break the kiss as he teleported them into the private restroom and lifted her up onto the counter, her legs wrapping around his waist as she better anchored herself to him.

_'New power,'_ she thought absentmindedly as his touch moved down to her thighs and the hem of her red dress, and suddenly, another thought that sounded suspiciously like Sylar entered her head.

_'Forever my little cheerleader.'_ Claire gasped again and he chuckled into the kiss, before moving his lips from hers and trailing kisses over her skin, stopping just below her jaw, sucking at the skin and biting softly. Claire moaned quietly, and he growled, hand snaking up under her skirt.

It wasn't until someone knocked on the bathroom door, most likely the janitorial staff, to ask if they were alright half an hour later that Claire and Sylar emerged from the restroom. Claire's blonde curls were slightly tangled, hands yanking at the hem of her skirt and discreetly adjusting her bra underneath her dress. Sylar was buttoning the top two buttons of his black dress shirt and pulling on his leather jacket. His hair was standing almost on end in some places and flattened in others, which he fixed quickly when the janitorial staff member gave him a knowing look. Claire went over to her fallen suitcase and picked it up by the handle, turning back to the man who'd haunted her fantasies for the better part of twenty years. His eyes went to the boarding pass on the floor at her feet, and she followed his gaze. She bent down to pick it up, only to tear it in half and drop the remains in the nearest garbage bin. Dragging her suitcase along behind her, she moved towards the baggage claim area and airport exit. Looking over her shoulder, Claire grinned up at Sylar.

"You coming? You're my ride home, you know," she called.

And he was at her side in an instant, draping an arm over her shoulders and pulling her closer into his side as they walked.

"My place or yours?" he asked as they approached glass double doors. Claire pretended to think for a moment before angling her head to meet his gaze.

"I was thinking about getting a roommate, actually," she said with a grin. He smirked in return.

"My rent is a little high."

* * *

And at the start of the third decade, the game ended, both players coming out champions. Their prize? An eternity of passion with the one being that understood them the most in this world.

**So, what did ya' think? :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter numero dos! Disclaimer still applies!**

Eternity can be an extremely long time. An extremely, long, boring time.

The door to Claire Bennet's apartment in uptown New York slammed against the wall as it was flung open.

"I can't believe you stabbed me, you son of a bitch!" screamed the raging petite blonde as she stormed into the apartment, chucking her red stiletto heels at the farthest wall and stomping into the kitchen.

"Well, believe it, Princess," Sylar replied with a roll of his eyes as he followed her inside. With a mere thought, the apartment door was shut and locked behind him. The sound of cabinets and drawers slamming open and shut signaled to him to stay out of the kitchen. Mentally, he inventoried any weapon-like objects that lay hidden in the kitchen.

"Where is the god damned baking soda, asshole?!" she shouted. Sylar raised a brow and thought about it for a moment.

"Oh, uh, Claire, I forgot to tell you I didn't get a chance to go to the store and replace the baking soda…."

"God damn you!" Claire stomped out of the kitchen, hands on her hips, facing Sylar. Taking in the sight of her, he mentally admitted that he could understand why she was upset just a little. A gaping hole in her favorite tight white dress, and her midriff crusted with her own blood was a little unsettling for him to see now that their evening had come to a close. "You are so paying for the dry cleaning!" she screamed before turning on her heel and storming back into the kitchen.

"I'm never taking you out anywhere again!" Sylar called after her, her shriek of frustration her reply. He smirked. Shrugging out of his leather jacket, he looked down to take in his own appearance. His jeans were splattered with blood that, luckily, wasn't his. Sylar draped his jacket over the back of his sofa and was about to go to the bedroom to change and maybe take a shower to get all the glass and blood out of his hair when Claire came back out of the kitchen with something rather unexpected in her grip.

"What the hell?! Claire, where did you get a gun?!"

Claire glared daggers into him as she pointed the barrel of the sleek weapon directly at his stomach. "None of your concern. This is for my dress."

And then she shot him.

* * *

When Sylar came to with a deep gasping breath of air, he looked around to make sure Claire wasn't in sight. He wasn't sure he was up for another bullet to the chest just yet. After coming to the conclusion that she was not within the vicinity, he sat up on his elbows and took in his appearance. Apparently, Claire had taken the time to change his clothes while he was out. He wore a different, clean pair of jeans, a long sleeved blue shirt, and black socks. He smiled softly. Claire was so desensitized to discomfort now that she kept the apartment pretty cold and freezing hardwood floors wasn't something he enjoyed. So he always walked around in socks.

And she remembered.

Pulling himself up to stand, a small noise in the kitchen had him heading towards the source. Rounding the corner, he could see Claire standing at the stove with her back to him. She wasn't wearing the dress anymore. Instead, she wore his grey hoodie and a pair of denim shorts, a sports bra peeking out from under the zipper of the sweater. He smirked at her choice of attire and leaned against the counter, just watching her as she hummed and stared at her pan of scrambled eggs. She lifted a cup of coffee to her full lips and took a sip, running her fingers through wet tangled blonde locks. After another moment of observation, Sylar spoke.

"Claire."

She stiffened a little, registering his presence, but still refused to turn towards him. Sylar pushed away from the counter and approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest.

"I'm sorry I stabbed you, Claire," he murmured into her hair as he kissed the top of her head. She slumped in his arms slightly, stretching her neck to look up at him. Green eyes clashed with dark brown for a moment before she shrugged and returned her attention to the eggs. Sylar grinned and turned the girl in his arms, using his puppeteer skills. She rolled her eyes with a sigh as she smiled up at him.

"As long as you don't do it again," she said with another shrug. "And give me a warning next time you want to use me as a distraction, okay?" she said with a frown. Sylar nodded.

"I'll be sure to do that. I'm sorry I ruined that dress. I rather liked it on you," he commented offhandedly. Claire snorted.

"You looked like you liked it more with the hole in it," she teased. He grinned.

"Well, I can't say that I would have objected to you keeping it on a little longer," he murmured before leaning in to capture her lips with his.

Yes, eternity can be an extremely boring, extremely long time. But, Claire and Sylar know how to keep it interesting.

**Don't forget to review! :3**


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